


Tannhäuser

by tea_the_turtleduck



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, opera reference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:51:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2726243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tea_the_turtleduck/pseuds/tea_the_turtleduck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Ms. Dean is a manipulative witch, Carmilla reminisces about an opera, and Laura loves Carmilla very much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tannhäuser

The sea doesn’t change as the earth changes;  
it doesn’t lie.  
You ask the sea, what can you promise me  
and it speaks the truth; it says  _erasure_.

—"March” by Louise Glück

* * *

 Everything about her reminds Laura of the sea.

She had only seen it once, the sea. Once, when she was very young and her father had brought her with him on a business trip by the seaside. They only had an hour of leisure before he had to be called away again. She had implored him to let her stay, to breathe in the salt of the air, to let the bluish-gray of the indifferent waves sear her eyes until she could see nothing else. Her lovely mother had just died a few months prior and the image of her wasting away in that bone-white hospital bed had been haunting Laura every night.

She had wanted to dream of something else.

But her father wouldn’t let her be apart from him, even for a moment. The loss still stung, like a gaping wound that wouldn’t heal, and Laura—lovely little Laura—resembled her mother so closely that he would like to keep her with him at all times. _Darling, my darling girl,_ he would whisper sometimes and Laura could almost hear his heart breaking anew each time. In retrospect, Laura thinks that what her father did, keeping her close to him during those months, those years, was to salt the wound that her mother had left.

It was strange, but Laura supposes that was how her father had loved.

It is strange, Laura thinks, but now she is starting to understand as she looks at the girl in front of her, the girl with dark eyes that still manage to glow with a lambent light sometimes. Like the pale stars when a thin cloud passes in front of them.

 _Cupcake_ , Carmilla says, when she looks up from the book she is reading and catches Laura’s eyes on her. Laura smiles and Carmilla smiles back. She puts down her book and pats the space beside her on the bed. Laura walks over and sits close, letting her weight rest against Carmilla’s side.

She peers at the title of the book Carmilla was reading. _That isn’t a philosophy book._

Carmilla chuckles. _No. I don’t just read philosophy books, you know._

_But you read a lot of those._

_Yes. An unfortunate consequence of centuries of existing is that one tends to question the very nature of existence, among other things._

_Brooding, you mean._

Carmilla laughs. _Yes, brooding._ She loops her arm around Laura’s waist, pulling her even closer. She turns her face to kiss the top of Laura’s head. _Reading philosophy books isn’t the only way to make sense of things. Listening to music, reading poetry, watching an opera are other ways._ Carmilla traces a finger across the cover of the book. _This is the libretto for Tannhäuser._

_Wagner?_

_Yes, Wagner._

_Why?_

Silence. Then, a sigh so soft that Laura scarcely hears it. _Maman used to take me to a lot of places, exposed me to all the pleasures that this world could offer. I realize now that this was much of her way of shrouding me from the evil that I had been a part of as her way of refining me as bait. But after more than a century of pleasure-seeking, I was starting to tire of it. I was starting to get restless. And she noticed._

 _When she brought me to Dresden in October 1845 to watch an opera, I didn’t make much of it. All I knew was that it was the premiere of a new opera by Richard Wagner. But it soon became clear to me why she brought me to watch it._ Carmilla pauses and looks at Laura. _Do you know the story of Tannhäuser?_

Laura shakes her head.

 _Tannhäuser is a knight and minstrel of Venus and has been living with her in a Bacchanalian debauchery. After a year, he then grows weary of it all and he asks leave from her. She grows angry with him and calls him an ungrateful traitor and sends him away. This happens in the second scene in the first act. I still remember shuddering at the violence of her speech._ Carmilla closes her eyes.

 

> _Zieh hin, Wahnsinniger, zieh hin!_   
>  _Verräther, sieh! nicht halt‘ ich dich._   
>  _Ich geb‘ dich frei,—zieh hin! zieh hin_   
>  _Was du verlangst, das sei dein Loos,_   
>  _Hin zu den kalten Menschen flieh‘,_   
>  _Vor deren blödem, trübenn Wahn_   
>  _Der Freude Götter wir entfloh’n_   
>  _Tief in der Erde wärmenden Schoos,_   
>  _Zieh hin, Bethörter! Suche dein Heil,_   
>  _Suche dein Heil—und find’ es nie!_   
>  _Bald weicht der Stolz aus deiner Seel’,—_   
>  _Demüthig seh‘ ich dich mir nahn,—_   
>  _Zerknirscht, zertreten suchst du mich auf_   
>  _Flehst, um die Wunder meiner Macht._

Laura knows enough German to make sense of what Carmilla has just spoken and it makes her tremble. She reaches for Carmilla’s hand and squeezes it. Carmilla still hasn’t opened her eyes. _I was terrified,_ Carmilla whispers. _I stole a glance at Maman and she was looking at me. She was looking at me the entire time, her eyes so cold and cruel like I’ve never seen them before. Then she smiled and it was even worse. She didn’t say anything; she knew she didn’t have to. Then she turned her eyes back to the stage._

 _I wanted to leave. When the scene ended, I asked Maman if I could go but she just gripped my wrist and smiled that cruel, terrible smile and said,_ Sweetheart, the best is yet to come. _So I remained sitting there, watching the story unfold. Tannhäuser rejoins the Minstrel Knights, falls in love with a maiden named Elisabeth who requites his love. But his corruption is revealed in the tournament and he is condemned by all, save for her, her who has been hurt the most by the revelation of his unworthiness. She asks him to repent and he joins a band of pilgrims to seek absolution from the Pope but the Pope tells him his sin is too great and he cannot ever be forgiven._ Carmilla pauses once again. She opens her eyes. _At that point, I felt so sick and so near the point of fainting in my seat._ She gives a short, harsh laugh. _Which is hilarious when you think how I was already a vampire and had lived over a century and yet I was still getting so overcome by an opera._ Laura shakes her head but doesn’t interrupt. She squeezes Carmilla’s hand.

 _Maman turns to me then. And she says,_ Oh my poor child. You’re looking unwell. Come, let us go. _And then we left minutes before the opera ended._ Carmilla laughs again, and the bitterness rings through so clearly that Laura can feel it deep in her bones. _Outside the opera house, she held my face between her hands and kissed my forehead, saying over and over again in that honey tone,_ Sweetheart, it is only an opera. _But I could hear the glee in her voice. And when I finally looked at her again, I caught sight of that wild bright light in her eyes. She was enjoying it. She was enjoying watching me quivering in fear. But she must have seen the realization in my eyes since she held me close and said,_ Sweetheart, I’ll take care of you, like I always have. Have I ever led you wrong, my precious girl?

_I wanted to get away from her then, to push her away, but at the same time, my body yearned for her embrace and so there I remained. Afterwards, she was so sweet, so careful and attentive that I started to forget that night, to dismiss it as a dream. Because Maman said she loved me and she promised that she would take care of me. Still I felt that seed of terror planted deep inside me, budding ever so painfully slow. And it flowered when I met Elle._

Carmilla laces her fingers with Laura’s. _A few years after Maman found me again in Paris, she took me to watch Tannhäuser again. Despite the memories of the first time I watched it, I was too tired and afraid to resist. After everything that had happened, the story took on a clearer, an even more sinister meaning. By the second act, I was already whimpering and begging, begging Maman that we leave and not finish the opera. Maman turned to me and said,_ Hush, sweetheart. Of course, of course. I won’t let anything hurt you. _And then we left, and I haven’t seen the opera again since._

Laura is silent for a moment. _Then why are you reading it now?_

Carmilla turns to her and smiles. _Because I never knew how it ended._ She shifts until she is lying on the bed and she motions Laura to follow suit. When they have both settled comfortably, Carmilla lifts her hand to trace the outline of Laura’s cheek. _After that second showing, I tried many times to read the libretto. I wanted to know how it ended, but everything about it reminded me of the price of my disobedience. Every time I tried, I would feel this excruciating pain filling my veins with fire. I could never get past the point where Maman and I had left that first time. And soon those futile attempts became kind of pleasurable._ Carmilla eyes flutter close. _I can’t explain it._

 _It’s okay,_ Laura says, gently, her tone matching the way her fingers are tucking Carmilla’s inky-black hair behind her ear. _It’s okay, I... I sort of get it._

Carmilla smiles again, relief flowing into her features as the pain slowly ebbs out. _I just finished it now, actually._ Her thumb traced circles on Laura’s jaw, with that gentle cadence that reminded Laura of the sea. _With you, here with me, I could read it until the very end._ Carmilla leans close and presses her lips against Laura’s. She draws back a little. _He was forgiven. At the very end, he was forgiven._

Laura feels her heart ache inside her chest and her eyes stinging with tears. She buries her hands in Carmilla’s hair, pulling her head closer until they were kissing again, harsh and desperate. She feels Carmilla shake against her and knows she is crying. Laura kisses Carmilla’s closed eyelids, feel them quiver beneath her lips.

She could taste salt, and Laura doesn’t know if it is from her tears or from Carmilla’s, or both. But she is filled with the certainty that in time, the sea inside her, inside Carmilla, will be able to wash away the centuries of pain inscribed in her bones.


End file.
